the malevolence of god
by dezel
Summary: Ivan knows she's lying, but he doesn't say anything. The streets are not a place to show fear, it is a vulnerability.
1. Chapter 1

_after much debate if i should just make this a long one shot or if i should make this a multi-chapter story, i decided to go with the chapter idea as a just in case. i'm planning this to be only only three really long chapters, this one being the shortest._

_on that note this will serve as the only warning: this story contains prostitution with minors (characters being around twelve and thirteen years old), mentions of child abuse and child sexual abuse, as well as other very sensitive subject matter. if these subjects make you uncomfortable or easily trigger you, please click the back button._

_inspired by a prompt over on tumblr._

* * *

"You're hurt."

"You are very good at stating the obvious." Ivan replies, lips pulled into a grim frown and Amelia scowls and automatically, he reaches up and touches the bruising eye and winces. "I hate people sometimes."

"Yeah," she mumbles. "Don't go off with that bastard again." Her voice is firm, a little louder. Ivan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off, quickly. "I don't care what he pays. He hurts you, and I don't like it."

"It isn't much different than home," Ivan replies, quietly. "I am used to it."

"I don't care!" She snaps, voice raising a little bit and it garners some stares from people passing by. "You could end up _dead_!"

Ivan's eyes widen briefly, in almost surprise, but the expression changes to that of a smile as he raises his hand and pats her on the head, hair grimy and dirty from not bathing in so long. "Oh silly Amelia, that could never happen!"

"You don't know that!" Amelia snaps, shoving his much larger hand away. "I worry about you." She sighs. "Augh, you're annoying."

"And so are you."

Amelia rolls her eyes and begins walking. "When it's daylight out, I wanna take a closer look at your eye. Did he punch you or...?"

"Slammed my face into the wall," Ivan says.

Amelia cringes. "I'm surprised you don't have a broken nose."

"I probably do. It bled like crazy when he did it!" Truth be told, Amelia's clients aren't much nicer, but they generally provide a warm bed and shower so long as their partner doesn't come home unexpectedly. The twelve year old ducks into an alleyway and the thirteen year old follows. "How did it go for you?"

Amelia shakes her head. "No luck on my end, sadly. Some cops bugged me, because they _totally_ care about a homeless girl, right?" Ivan says nothing. "They really don't care. If we were eighteen, they would just haul us off to jail."

"What can they do since we're considered minors?" Ivan asks curiously. This topic has never come up before, though a few run in's with the police do happen, nothing is really done besides warnings. He does know that to the police, they're as good as dead.

Amelia shrugs. "Juvie, I guess. Get dragged home, or put in foster care, where we will just disappear into a system and at eighteen, no longer a burden and off to the streets. Again." They come across a familiar abandoned building, and she lifts a leg and kicks the door open. "If we had drugs, on the other hand, yeah, we'll be hauled off to jail."

"Perhaps all of that is better than this."

Amelia shrugs again. "Maybe."

The last place Amelia wants to go to is _home_, with an alcoholic mother who brings strange men home all the time, and sometimes, Amelia is awakened to the cruel hands of men that decide a little girl is much more prettier than a grown woman. She knows for Ivan, that could possibly be true as well. From what little he's told her, his father was definitely not a kind man. Amelia was able to figure things out from there, but despite knowing his past, she's never told him hers.

It's a secret she's certain she'll carry to her grave.

When she had first met her companion, because they're totally not friends, he had saved her from a gang of thugs who were harassing her. If he hadn't come along, she's sure she'd be a corpse somewhere in the city. They had quickly dispersed, because a bulky kid with an expression of someone who would have no problems ripping their hearts from their chests is _not_ someone one would want to mess with.

Since then, they've sorta latched onto each other. All she knows about him is that his family-a single father and two sisters-moved from a city in Russia. He wants to go back one day, and that's all she knows about him.

She sighs, as she lays on her stomach. "The only thing I'm grateful for is the fact we live in a warm state." Ivan makes a small noise in the back of his throat. "Sure, it's suffering during the day, but at least we don't have to worry about freezing to death during the winters and the nights are nice."

As usual, Ivan doesn't say much and Amelia rolls her eyes and stares at him for a brief moment, before rolling over and facing away from him. The building they're in has been abandoned for years now, Amelia doesn't know what it was before but she guesses it was a store of sorts, judging from the lack of staircases and the small counter. It's mostly in shambles, with fallen debris and creaking pipes, holes in the wall and she can smell moth balls.

"Do you ever get scared?"

"Eh?" Amelia rolls back over and stares at him, curiously. "What's with that question? Heroes don't get scared!" It was Amelia who had suggested they turn to this life, seeing how neither can legally get a job, and it was a quick buck. She had at first thought about dealing drugs, but the chances of dying or getting addiction herself isn't something she wanted, after witnessing how quickly someone can change when high.

Despite her own home life of being sexually abused, and knowing her own discomfort with the idea, she figures that she can pick and choose who she goes with. Amelia knows it's bad on her part, but she generally chooses to go with women clients more than men, feeling safer with them as they always come off as less violent. Amelia had been proved wrong countless times, but still chooses them over any male offer.

Oh yes, she goes off with men, secretly cheating on their wives or playing out fantasies that they know they could never get away with if she weren't some nameless kid on the street. What they do _is_ legal, but _they're_ not, not according to the state. Sometimes, Amelia secretly wishes a cop would bust them and one of their clients but she knows that would never happen. They're just nameless kids on the street, if they went missing or died, nobody would know and the world would continue turning.

For some reason, Ivan had decided to just do whatever she said to do, without much complaint. At first, she teased him and suggested he join the Russian mafia because of where he comes from, but he didn't find that to be very funny and had ignored her for a few days until she apologized.

Ivan scowls. "You never get scared? Going off with strange men and women."

"I have nothing to fear," Amelia says, firmly. Amelia is afraid of many things, from a voice calling out to her, to every time Ivan leaves and she's left wondering if he'll come back, to the silent blackness night has to offer in small, dead towns. She prefers the city for that reason. Monsters crawl in the dark, ready, looming, waiting to grab and hurt. "Heroes never get scared!"

Ivan knows she's lying, but he doesn't say anything. The streets are not a place to show fear, it is a vulnerability.

"...Do you?" She ventures to ask.

"_Nyet_."

Amelia buries her face into her arms, hiding her smile.

–

"It's hoooot," Amelia whines as she sprawls out on the floor, shirt already removed and thrown aside. "I can't stand this."

"A few days ago you were claiming that being in a warmer climate was better than a colder one," Ivan says, feeling smugly satisfied with her misery, despite feeling hot himself. Unlike her, he hasn't even removed one article of clothing.

Amelia lifts a hand in the air and gives a lazy wave. "Details," she tiredly says. "anyways, I meant for the fucking winter."

"You shouldn't swear."

"Fucking bite me,"

"Hmm, is that how you like it?"

Amelia gives him in the middle finger, still not bothering to sit up and look at him. "Aren't you dying in your clothes? You're wearing a friggin' sweater in like hundred degree weather."

"I am fine," Ivan replies.

"You gotta actually be dying." Amelia says, sitting up. "Plus, you can get heat stroke."

With a little roll of his eyes, Ivan stands up and steps the few small spaces over to her and sits down again. "It would spare me from being around you."

"You love me,"

"Keep telling yourself that."

She lightly punches his arm. "Don't lie. You know you love being around me, and think I am the epitome of perfect."

"More like the epitome of annoying and obnoxious."

"Which is why you love me."

"I _tolerate_ you, and as far I know, love and tolerating are two different things."

"Lovers tolerate each others faults and mess ups." Amelia rolls over onto her stomach and looks at him, grinning a little.

"But we are not lovers,"

"Nah, we aren't." She agrees. "That stuff is stupid. Besides, we're only kids." She draws in a deep breath. "Love doesn't even exist."

"I think it does." Ivan replies, not really looking at her now. "When mama was still around, she and father were inseparable, and would do anything for each other." He pauses, thinking. "Weren't your parents in love?"

Amelia is quiet for a moment, mulling it over. How much information can she really divulge? "I don't think so."

"Were they always fighting?"

"No." Her fingers curl a little bit. "Dad was Army. He got drafted, and mom couldn't handle a year without him. He came home, and learned very quickly that she was bad at being faithful so he filed for divorce." Amelia licks her lips. "Stuff happened, and mom didn't want him having visitation rights, and naturally, court picked her over him. Dunno where he is now. Could've been drafted again and died, or found a new family. I dunno. Bastard didn't even try that hard in court."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. How'd your mom die?"

"Breast cancer. They found it too late in the stages."

"Shit, that sucks. I'm sorry dude." Ivan doesn't say anything, and just stares ahead. Amelia can never tell what he's thinking and that is one thing that bothers her about him. She doesn't like not being able to read people. "So uh. Yucky feelings aside, what should we do today?"

"Try to get some semblance of cleanliness?"

"That doesn't involve moving and finding a generally empty gas station?" Ivan stares at her and Amelia scowls. "Fiiiine."

As they walk through the streets, Amelia bouncing and Ivan slouched, they garner a few stares with their dirty, disheveled appearance and a few disgusted looks. Amelia only glares at them in response, and she watches as a mother ushers her children out of the way, and suddenly feels _very_ self conscious. Ivan looks like a common thug, and his black eye nor visible scars help at all against any judgments people are probably making about them, and they probably assume Amelia is the same. Plus, she's aware that they smell and their clothes are ratty and torn, and generally just _gross_.

They do find an empty gas station, and the bored, inattentive attendant flipping through a magazine. It's small, kind of dirty but that doesn't matter. The duo make their way to the back, and slip into their respective bathrooms.

Amelia is glad it's a one person bathroom, so there's privacy. First, she locks the door and strips herself of her clothes and turns on the faucet and dips her head underneath, and scrubs at her hair the best she can. Grime and dirt come out, but even then, she still doesn't feel _clean_ but she doesn't have very many options. Afterwards, she grabs a bunch of paper towels and dampens them, soaping them up and scrubs at her skin until most of the dirt is off.

This is a normal thing for them, slipping into gas station bathrooms or bathrooms inside of stores to wash up. When they don't go out at night or when they do quickies instead of overnight stays, this is how they rely on getting clean. Homeless shelters don't accept minors and Amelia has trust issues with most youth centers. Adults, in her mind are not to be trusted. Even if these little details didn't exist in her world, she doesn't know where these centers are.

She doesn't know what Ivan thinks about it, outside of their conversation about it the other night. If he were to decide to leave, she wouldn't stop him but honestly, she wouldn't want him to go.

When she's done, the sink is dirty and the small garbage bin is full. Amelia exits the bathroom when she's done and dressed, she finds Ivan waiting for her and reading something on the newspaper stand. Her eyes skim over the words.

**FOUR TEEN GIRLS FOUND DEAD**

_Of _course, she thinks, looking away from the newspaper, no longer interested and glances over at the counter, the attendant still paying them no mind, she beckons for Ivan to follow her. As quietly as she can, she opens the cooler door and plucks out two water bottles and silently closes them again. Amelia peeks at the counter again, still distracted, and hands the bottles over to Ivan so he can hide them under his sweater.

Not willing to risk anything else, the pair quickly leave.

–

"That shit is going to kill you one day," Amelia remarks as Ivan lights up a cigarette, tonight, the air feels much more cooler than usual. Her stomach is cramping up, so she grimaces a little as she steps closer to the wall that Ivan is leaning against. She's certain it's from hunger since she hasn't gotten her period in _months_, and at first, she had panicked, thinking that she could possibly be pregnant but it had soon dawned on her that's not so much the case.

"Oh well," Ivan replies as he blows smoke in her face and she wrinkles her nose, scowling a bit. A small smile forms on Ivan's face at her expression. In a weird way, he finds it cute.

"You're a dummy," she huffs.

"I will probably die from the elements sooner than I will from smoking."

Amelia rolls her eyes. "You don't know that." She crosses her arms over her chest and peers out at the near empty road. "Where'd you even get those?"

"Swiped them off of someone,"

"_When_ did you start smoking?" As far as she's aware, she's never actually seen him smoke before, but then again, they're not always around each other.

"Few months ago." Amelia makes an 'O' shape with her mouth. "So, why do you care if I die or not?"

Her eyes widen and her face goes red. "I-I don't! It's just," she mumbles something and tugs at a lock of her dirty, ratty blonde hair. "y'know. I dunno."

"You are a strange one."

"You're weirder."

Ivan reaches over and places his hand on her head, the extra weight causing her to slouch a little. "Well, you're very little."

Amelia pulls away and glares up at him. "You're not that much taller than me! O-only a head taller..."

Ivan giggles a little, and flicks the butt of the cigarette to the ground. "Shorty!" He repeats the word over and over while pressing down on her head, gaining a rise from the girl as she continues to snap that she's totally not short and actually _average_ for a girl her age.

As he continues to tease her, a sleek blue car slowly rolls up and the window rolls down. Ivan stops, and stares, a frown setting in. Secretly, he hopes that the stranger calls out to him instead of Amelia, a sudden wariness setting in.

"Girly." The man calls out. "How much?"

"It depends." Amelia replies, moving away from Ivan. "Hand job is ten dollars, oral is twelve and actual sex is fifteen, and condoms are a must."

"Got a hundred."

"Overnight and within reason, whatever you want." The man beckons her closer to the car, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

As she steps towards the car, Ivan's hand shoots out and grabs at her fingers and stops her. "Don't," he whispers. "This isn't our usual spot-"

Amelia rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, Ivan!" She gives him a reassuring smile. His grip tightens just a fraction.

"Something doesn't feel right," He mumbles, but loosens his grip. He reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls something small and long oval shaped out, pressing it into the palm of her hand. "Use this if he tries to hurt you." With his voice low and accent becoming thicker than usual, Amelia has to strain to even make out what he's saying.

"I will," she says after a moment and smiles sweetly. "See you tomorrow!" With that, she walks away from Ivan and gets into the car.

As the man drives away with his friend in the car, Ivan makes sure to memorize the license plate. This is mostly out of habit, he tries to convince himself, the big brother instinct kicking in. After all, he has a little sister at home and was always so protective of her, and that part of him just didn't die.


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter touches on some potentially offensive and very touchy subjects, such as religion, child abuse and rape. I'm trying to make this as accurate I as possibly can without taking away the story. I personally don't live in Los Angeles, so whatever of the layout I know of is what one of my friends has told me, among a lot of other things._

_If I got anything wrong, please let me know. I will fix it asap._

–

Ivan Braginsky prides himself on being able to read people, something that would be called a defense mechanism that had started since he was very young. Before his mother passed away, his father wasn't always so cruel but still had a temper, and would often smack him around (but never his sisters, because you shouldn't hit girls) or yell at him when his temper would get the better of him. In his family, this was considered normal, but normal is subjective and often, he would watch other families go about and wonder if it was common for them.

Often, he found himself denying that his mother knew about the abuse, but he knew better than that. Just like his mother turned a blind eye to the beatings, he turned a blind eye to his mother slowly dying, and finally, acted like he didn't care. Any apologies she had, it fell on deaf ears. Though, Ivan often wonders if weekends away at _babushka's _home were his mothers attempts at keeping him safe for a time being.

Kindness is so foreign to him that he wonders if Amelia is right in one aspect, that _love_ is non-existent. He had lied to her, about how his parents were in love, but he felt it better than confirming it.

Now that his thoughts are on Amelia, she hasn't returned and it's been about three days now. He had checked in all their usual spots, and there's this feeling deep inside of him, like something is _wrong_. Perhaps she had decided to go home after all, maybe living on the streets had become less of an adventure for her. One of his biggest fears, he would never admit, even under torture, is that he's afraid of being alone and he _hopes_ she hadn't decided to go home.

When nightfall comes, Ivan debates on going out, if it's worth the risk tonight or if he should just wait another day. With a little sigh, he sprawls out on the hard floor and stares at where Amelia would normally lay and pretends that she's there, snoring like she usually does. His fingers tap at the floor, the noise echoing.

He thinks he hears heavy footsteps from somewhere in the shadows, and covers his ears. _This_ is why Ivan had chosen to stay with Amelia, because she's loud and animated and funny, she drowns out that nasty side and chases away the monsters unknowingly.

When morning comes around, it dawns on Ivan that he hadn't really slept and only tossed and turned throughout the night. He becomes aware of the ache in his head, in stomach and just raw soreness throughout his body. It was almost like his second day of being a homeless kid, only this time, the rawness is from something else.

He eyes Amelia's spot, she's still not there.

With a heavy sigh, Ivan forces himself to stand up and staggers a little, blood rushing to his head quickly and he rubs at his temples. On the nights they're separated, he usually stays at a church or loiters there as much as he can and he just might do that today. At least it has air conditioning.

Religion isn't a big part of his life, at least, not anymore. Back when his mother was still alive, they'd go to every service, and be a big part of the church because it was important to her. For him, it's just another day, another thing to do and it made his mother happy. Yet now, it doesn't matter to him.

He stops for a moment, as a loud voice calls out, talking about the End Times as though it were to happen tomorrow. Ivan furrows his brows a little bit, he could barely make out what the guy was saying. This happens sometimes—he can barely hear in his left hear from when his father struck him too hard—where they talk too fast, everything goes to a white noise.

_Hot_. That's all Ivan can really register, mixed emotions. Most people are ignoring the pastor, who waves his arms in a hilarious, dramatic fashion, one hand gripping a crimson red book with golden writing. **Holy Bible**.

Ivan stumbles past, and he could practically hear Amelia scoffing in the back of his mind. She would easily call the pastor crazy, and claim that if there was a god, it'd be a girl. When Ivan would prompt her why, she would just grin and shrug. _"How else would life be created, if not by a girl?" _She would reply, a bounce in her step.

"_But you would also need a boy." _He would say,and Amelia would roll her eyes and lightly punch him on the arm, and call him dumb. In the end, they both can agree that if there is a god, then he must have a cruel sense of humor.

Ivan sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair, realizing that it's getting long and it's starting to curl from the humidity. He looks up at the sky and scowls, it's cloudy. If it rains, he will be more than a little bit upset. At this point, he's debating on just going home and dealing with his father's wrath. Ivan wonders what his sisters are doing, if they're okay, if he started to hit them too.

_I doubt they miss me. _Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, Ivan lowers his head and only looks up every time a car zips past. Each time, he hopes it's the one Amelia had left him in but knows that's futile.

He stops for a moment, after coming across an old newspaper dispenser, the blue paint chipping off and the metal beneath it is rusting. The bold, black headline catches his eye. It's weird that they're keeping up with replacing the paper daily, but then again, not everyone gets the newspaper delivered to them and gas stations run out eventually.

**BODY OF DEAD GIRL IDENTIFIED**

_LOS ANGELES, xx_

_On October 12, 20xx, a couple stumbled upon a corpse of a young girl south side of Los Angeles, police thought it to be gang related. Her body was mutilated with multiple stab wounds-_

Ivan forces himself to look away from the newspaper, feeling a cold chill run down his spin and he forces himself to keep walking, pace now faster.

It takes forever, but he finally reaches his destination. The building reminds him of home, in terms of grandeur as it reaches towards the sky, the roof pointed and rounded with a golden cross sitting a top and the building itself is white with very few windows.

Outside the doors stands a man, who seems to be unlocking the doors and Ivan hesitates and wonders if he should make his presence known. If it's even okay. With his luck, the man seems to feel him staring and turns around, one brow quirked.

"Would you like to come in?" The man offers, he had obviously been warned about Ivan. "I'm just filling in while the main guy is in the hospital." He explains as Ivan gets nearer, and he steps aside, letting the young boy in. "There's no telling when he'll be back."

Ivan shrugs, avoiding eye contact. He had rather liked the old man, who would feed him and talk to him like a human being. "What's wrong with him?" Ivan finally asks.

"Uh, they don't know." He offers Ivan a gentle smile. "I'm Konstantin, by the way. I take it you're Ivan?"

The boy nods.

Ivan takes his usual place in the back, the long aisle of pews, and the lighting is as usual, dim and Konstantin disappears somewhere in the church as Ivan leans against the wall. The air conditioning feels nice against his otherwise hot, badly sunburned skin. Honestly, he doesn't even know why he comes here, other than for the sweet relief from the heat. If the old man dies, Ivan isn't sure what he'll do.

He isn't sure about Konstantin, who carries himself confidently, but it's obvious he's kind of insecure about something. The sheepish smile, the furrowed brows and unkempt hair, and the way he walks, as though he were on the defensive.

The old man is the only person who knew what his home life was like, and was the only adult in his life who hasn't urged him to go home or go to a youth center, because it was his choice. He doesn't like the idea of him being sick, and potentially dying. But Ivan won't admit that. Death is something he will never understand, having denied that his mother passed away for _months_. Katya always described him as innocent, or naive because of that.

–

He dreams of sunflowers, fields of them, never ending with a sun that's warm but not too hot. Ivan dreams of safety, and his mothers smile, the soft, _"Vanya, I love you so much." _but it's all ripped from him when he's shaken awake by a stranger who has green eyes that are striking against his black hair and tan skin. It takes him a moment to remember who this weird man is, and when reality sinks down on him, so does his heart.

"I have to lock up," Konstantin gently tells him. "If you want, I can take you to a shelter-"

"_Nyet_!" It comes out too loudly, too quickly and he winces, almost expecting to be struck. "No," he says, again, calmly after drawing in a deep breath. "'m _fine_."

Ivan is quick to leave, not wanting to linger around much longer, but he shoots a quick thanks in Konstantin's direction. It had rained while he napped, Ivan realizes. Everything is wet and the sky is completely gray and he can't help but fear that's a bad sign.

He heads to his 'home', and finds himself not very surprised that Amelia isn't back. The police aren't to be trusted, but one more day, and she could be a corpse, if she isn't already. Maybe she really did go home, he doesn't know. Ivan tries to recall the license plate but fails miserably.

The station is too far anyways, and they won't listen to a homeless boy.

Dejected, depressed and frustrated, Ivan sits against a wall and draws his knees to his chest. He's too old to do this, but he can't help it. The night is cold anyways, so at least it's something. Ivan stares at the spot Amelia usually takes and tries to picture her sitting there, but fails so he tries to imagine his home when he was a child. Lively, but still a nightmare. Natalya always following him around, or the three of them playing together, and his grandmothers cooking being the greatest thing in the world.

The holidays were the best parts of his childhood, the colorful eggs on Easter, the warmth coming in from the cold during Christmas.

Ivan hopes starvation takes him soon.

A noise jerks him awake, and he hadn't realized that he fell asleep again. Wary, and alert, Ivan silently and carefully makes his way towards the almost collapsed counter and crouches behind it. A light shines in the room, and it casts long shadows on the wall.

"Are you _sure_?" A man prompts, impatiently. "I don't see anyone."

"We still have to check, Arthur." Someone else scolds, and Ivan remains hidden as two men come into view. "It's part of our job."

"Slow night if we're told to check out reports of breaking and entering." Arthur huffs.

"I would rather this than being called to investigate a murder, or removing children from a home because the parent decided to overdose on heroin."

"You do have a point there, frog." Ivan ducks when the flashlight sweeps over him, and he accidentally hits some rubble as he does so. The noise alerts them, and one of them approaches. "A boy?" Arthur asks as he peers over. "You do know it's illegal to be in here, right?"

"What's it to you?" Ivan replies with a scowl.

"You're breaking a law and trespassing," his partner explains. "Come with us, we can take you home."

"I'm not going back there."

"Look kid, whatever argument you and your parents got into, I'm sure it can be fixed."

"It can't," Ivan replies, coldly. "You can't make me go back."

"Then we can bring you to a youth center." Arthur says. "Or you can apply for emancipation."

"I don't want to go there, either." Not until Amelia comes back, anyways.

"The streets are dangerous-"

"I know." Ivan huffs.

"And there's help for you."

He wants out of this life, he really does. Ivan is certain if he continues on longer, he'll just kill himself. "If you do me one favor, I will go with you." He finally says. _Maybe_ is a word that lingers in the back of his mind.

–

"Ivan, this is Heracles Karpusi, he's one of the officer's who have been assigned to the case." Arthur says as he introduces Ivan to a sleepy looking man, who is slouched back in his chair, eyes drooping shut and locks of brown hair falling into his face. "Officer Karpusi, this is Ivan. He says that he might have some information on the killer."

The man yawns a little bit. "Okay," he speaks a little slowly, and straightens up. "You can go ahead and start telling me everything you know when you're ready."

Ivan almost doesn't want Arthur to leave him alone, but it happens anyways. The man is quickly gone and Ivan cautiously sits down on the chair across from Heracles' desk. "I only know the license plate number. I don't know if it's the killer or not." He licks his lips. "My best friend is missing and I don't know if he took her or not."

Best friend. _That_ term is reserved for those closest to you, the ones who know almost every dirty secret about you, and they know nothing about each other, yet, he feels closest to her.

"That's fine," Heracles assures him. "Anything is better than nothing. Would you like some water or coffee or anything?"

Ivan shakes his head and draws in a deep breath. He begins to quietly describe the car, and the license plate, and the mans voice. He admits he hadn't seen the man, but something had felt off about him anyways.

After, Heracles thanks him and Ivan is escorted out of the office and into a small room. Arthur gives him a reassuring smile. "You've been a good lad. There's someone I want you to talk to. He's a social worker, and deals with kids like you all the time."

"But that wasn't part of our deal."

"I don't feel comfortable sending you back out on the streets, it's supposed to storm pretty badly."

Ivan wonders if Arthur is legally able to do this, but decides not to question it as a man hurries in. Like Heracles, he has long brown hair but unlike the other, this man seems overly stressed about everything.

"Hi, you must be Ivan," he speaks with a quiet voice and a kind smile. "I'm Toris. I've been told that you're homeless. Would you care about sharing the details as to why?"

Ivan shakes his head.

"Was there trouble at home? Money problems? Kicked out?"

"None of your business." Ivan replies, coldly. The final straw as to why Ivan had left home was because his father had found him kissing the neighbor boy, and lost his temper. He had run away that night, with a probably broken rib cage and a black eye.

"Ivan, I want to help you."

"No you don't," Toris draws in a deep breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth. The room is small, and the door is closed, Arthur is sitting right next to him so Ivan can't necessarily run. Ivan turns to Arthur, a frown set on his face. "I want to leave."

"Unfortunately, because you are a minor, I can't let you."

Ivan goes silent for a moment. "Then take me to the youth center, I don't care. I don't want to talk about this."

"Is that what you want?"

"_Da_, until Amelia is found."

Toris gives him a clinical smile. "I've been assigned to your case, so I will be there to check up on you in a few days and will let you know if there's any updates about your friend. And possibly even place you in foster care."

Ivan says nothing as they leave.

–

"I'm sorry for coming here so late," Arthur says, voice low. "It's quite the long story."

The building is bigger than Ivan had thought it would be, three stories high and spread out in a rectangular fashion, there's a long sidewalk leading to the double-doors, which he assumes are security locked. It's nothing really impressive otherwise.

The woman he's talking to just shrugs. "That's quite alright, I don't mind at all." Ivan lingers near the police car, not very willing to get any closer than he is.

"Ivan, come here." Reluctantly, Ivan steps closer, slouched over. He's exhausted and just wants to sleep. "This is Yao, he's one of the caretakers here at Covenant."

_'Wait,'_ Ivan blinks. _'Yao's a guy?' _Baffled by this, as Yao looks so feminine, on the short, slender side with long black hair pulled into a pony-tail, and his mannerisms remind Ivan of a female. The way he's holding himself, the demeanor he gives off.

"Nice to meet you, Ivan." Ivan says nothing. "I'm glad you were willing to come. Runaways are always very wary about coming to places like these, and for understandable reasons." Yao is speaking gently to him, and it's condescending in Ivan's mind, but he keeps his mouth shut. "There aren't very many rules, but failure to abide by them, we may have to kick you out."

"What are they?" Ivan asks, mumbling.

"Do your share of chores, don't start fights, don't be disruptive, stay out of the girls' rooms, curfew is ten, no drugs or drinking." They were simple enough. "Now, come, I bet you're tired."

Ivan looks over at Arthur for a brief moment, and follows after Yao, slouched and slow.

Inside is just as he expected it to be, sparely decorated with a few potted plants here and there, the foyer painted a lavender color, and on the tiled floor are three different colored lines.

"The red line leads to the boys' ward," Yao explains. "The yellow leads to the community rooms such as the kitchen, dining hall, rec room and so on, and the blue leads to the girls' ward." The red line goes left, the yellow line goes straight and the blue one goes right. Of course. "Color coded so nobody gets lost. The offices are upstairs, as well as the library, so if you need any of us, that's where we'll be. Each room has four to a bed, and every Friday night is a movie night. The weekday is reserved for doing homework during the school year, otherwise you will get an activity sheet in the morning if you would like to participate in those."

The wall way is painted blue, and there's a pride flag hanging up in the hallway and each door is closed or nearly closed, which signifies most everyone is asleep.

"Breakfast will be at eight, and showers are communal, if you would like to shower first."

"I have no change of clothes," Ivan says, dully.

"We can find something for you. Local churches and charities donate all the time. What size do you wear?"

So Ivan tells him as they stop in front of the boys' bathroom. He slips in past the door, and looks around the large bathroom. He peeks at his reflection in the large, long rectangular mirror and gingerly touches his nose, and winces. It still hurts, even days later. Of course it's broken.

He looks haggard and dead, dark circles under his eyes, skin horribly sunburned and clothes ragged and torn. His hair that's normally a pale blond is dark with dirt and probably dried blood, among other things and he wonders how he's going to get that clean. Ivan steps into a stall, that's made up of marble and impeccably clean (surprisingly), and strips down after shutting the door and locking it. He steps into the shower part, finding a bottle of shampoo and conditioner sitting on an edge that juts out.

Ivan turns on the water and winces a little as it hits his skin, and he slowly and carefully washes up. His body is covered in bruises and scars, some wounds have opened up and are probably infected, but he doesn't care anymore.

Ivan feels a little bit more energized when he steps out of the shower, and opens up the door to find some clothes and a towel folded neatly on the ground. He quickly dries himself off and inspects the pants and shirt. They're simple, black pants and a gray shirt but he can't really complain.

Yao is waiting for him outside of the bathroom, and he's shown his room, way at the end of the hall where it rounds and ends by a security locked door. He wonders where that leads to.

"It's five in the morning right now," Yao whispers. "I'll have one of your roommates wake you up later to see if you want to join us for breakfast, otherwise you're welcome to sleep late today."

"Will you come and get me if you hear anything about Amelia?"

"Amelia?"

Ivan frowns. "My best friend. She's missing. That's why I was with Arthur. We made a deal."

Yao nods. "Okay. I don't think Arthur mentioned that, but I will let you know if anything comes up, okay?"

Ivan makes a non-commital sound as he quietly steps into the room and takes the empty bed near the window. It doesn't take long for sleep to consume him.


End file.
